In which Demi wants...

A bengal kitten. Yes please <3

And I'd quite like my tutors to be good this term. Especially my Nordic Nightmare of a tutor's replacement in Medieval Englishes. Guess I'll find out tomorrow.... sorry, make that today. xo.

Letter #5: Your Parents

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~*~

Dear Mum & Dad,

I'm sure this will be a short letter because there is no real way to describe, in words at least, how much you both mean to me. Then again, I doubt I'd have much better luck in any other form of communication. Interpretative dance? Painting? Song? No chance.

Not only is the incredible bond I feel between us indescribable, it's also overwhelming. It's huge. If I were made up of puzzle pieces, each stamped with the name of a person who has shaped who I am today, I can guarentee your pieces would form the biggest part of me, by a long way.

Mum, I tell you everything. My friends find it bizarre, but the idea of keeping something from you makes me itch. We gossip, we chat nonsense, you keep me up to date with goings-on at home. I trust you more than anyone else on this earth, because I know that you know me better than anyone. You're my best friend, my advisor, my confidante, my amazing mother.

Dad, you are the person I aspire to be. It may seem lazy to aspire to be like someone so close to me... but I don't care. Because you would be an ideal role-model regardless. Through hard-work and determination (and a touch of control-freakishness which you bequeathed to me) you have carved out a life for yourself that is a world away from the situation you were born into. Yet you're always reminding me to have fun as well. To play as hard as I work, but not to be wasteful. And I know that no matter what problem or question that I have, you take the time to listen to me and give answering it a shot.

You balance each other perfectly, and have given me the stable, happy home life that many people dream of. A solid marriage of almost 25 years founded on mutual respect and love. I genuinely consider myself honoured to be the proud daughter of two such amazing people.

I love you both with all my heart, forever,

Your daughter xo.

In which Demi gives in to the inevitable.

Preeeeetty damn sure I am doomed to fail my last exam. Old English is far too similar to German, which reduced me to a gooey pile of desperation to understand and teeth-gnashing in High School. Also the fact that I am feeling far more creatively inclined than I have in a very long time, and I'm finding it hard to concentrate. Reading The God of Small Things for my Literature class, and Roy's narrative is compelling, foreign and exquisitely enticing. Enjoying it far more than my last read, The Wasp Factory by Iain Banks. Crazy man.

Currently checking out a host of new music. Sky Ferreira's on at the mo, pretty impressive voice, not sure about rememberability. Murray James' voice on the other hand was beautiful, if only he had more tracks (or even full ones) up online somewhere.

I need a cuppa, as always... xo.

In which Demi can breathe again.

All done. All 8000 words, done.

Now I just have to edit them all, bibliographies and print. Fab.

Back to Uni tomorrow :) I know I say this every term/year, but I really, REALLY do not want to be as unprepared and stressed as I was this holiday, and since I know ahead of time what my assessments are now, I can say:

I WILL WORK HARD THIS TERM. I WILL NOT GET INTO SUCH A STATE EVER AGAIN. EVER.

xo.

In which Demi is (or at least tries to be) mellower.

I've been stressing about a lot of things this holiday. Uni work, reading, writing, people, me.

Today... I'm going to push that aside and just do what I always used to do best.

Get on with the job.

xo.

In which Demi wonders

At what point in this year did Uni work go from interesting to the bane of my existance?

I had a meltdown before I'd even go out of bed today. My mum took pity on me and drew my curtains again. Dad came in and asked me how bad the situation would be if I just... didn't do my last essay?

Bad, Dad. Very bad, is the answer.

I emerged from my cocoon around 4pm, and have since armed myself with chocolate and tea to try again. An hour and a half later, I am yet to write a word.

Setting 8000 words, even over a 4 week period, with an extra 2 exams to revise for, is just asking for shoddy quality essays. It's inevitable. There is simply nothing left in me. No energy. No creativity. Nothing. I'm spent. And still 2000 words to go.

Easter will be interesting. 14,000 words worth of essays to keep me entertained.

I really wish someone would jump out and yell "punk'd" already... xo

Letter #4: Your Ex-bf/gf/crush

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~*~

Dear C.,

You always say how sorry you are, and how bad you feel about what happened between us, whenever 'us' comes up. And I'm glad. Happy, even. And if that makes me malicious or vindictive, then I don't really care. Because you deserve to feel bad after what you did to me. You built me up, gave me confidence, made me feel like finally - finally - my time had come. That it was my turn to find someone special.

Only for you to trip me at that last hurdle, with summer finally in sight, and sent me limping off the track.

Admittedly, I have a part to play in it as well. My pedestal-installing, worshiping tendencies emerged, blowing all of the sweet, kind things that you did or said to me (and there were lots) up from normal behaviour to the kind of things that songs are sung about, pictures painted, movies made to capture.

[I really should try and reign in my imagination when it comes to boys. It's not the first time it has stirred trouble.]

But still... no amount of hero-worship or sheer infatuation (damn butterflies) could forgive your sheer... capriciousness towards me. I should have taken it - us - as nothing more than a summer fling, reminiscent of Sandy and Danny's ideal summer. And, like in Grease, when term started and I left for Uni, reality settled in; our summer romance was gone. That boy who I'd met - who made my knees weak and genuinely made me want to call up the Uni and tell them I was taking a gap year - wasn't there. I don't know what happened in the week I was in Italy at the end of summer, but that was it. I broke the spell. That enchantment that was so dependent on me and you being here, together, now. Even at Christmas, something was different... but I pushed that feeling aside to throw myself all-in for a second attempt.

Fool me once, shame on you

Fool me twice, shame on me

It's been seven months since I've seen you. Hard to believe it, but true. I still have your sad (and hungover) smile imprinted in my mind as I stumbled out the door, still dazed from our last kiss and wondering how I was now going to manage to drive. I think I even tripped down the steps. How embarrassing.

It's been six months that you've been with her instead. I remind myself of this when the length of time doesn't seem real. Six months is so concrete.

At the end of the day, I don't regret getting involved with you, or even how it played out, even if it could have ended a lot better. I learnt a lot about myself and what I need in a guy. I need to be able to depend on him, the way I never could on you.

So we'll be friends, since you're apparently oh-so desperate to be. But don't push your luck.

--D. xo

Boy Meets Girl

Why can it not be this easy for me? Why now? And why him?

[I realise this seems to totally be counteractive to the last post. And I am not happy]

Letter #3 : Your Crush

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~*~

Dear Tall, Skinny, Blond boys everywhere,

I know this letter is supposed to be directed to a singular person, but I couldn't help but bend the rules a little. Because (and I know my housemates will scoff at me when they read this) for once in my life, I am crush-less. It's a very strange feeling. I've become known for my intense crushes, which last for far longer than 'crushes' should probably last. All, inevitably, boys who either would never like me back or, in the latest case, simply don't like me enough. 

But I'm a sucker for romance. For idealism. For building up a person in my head, no matter how often I see their realities, and projecting my affection onto the image I have so carefully cultivated, rather than the flawed human being I should be.

(Does that make me shallow?)

It's a hard habit to break, one that I can't seem to. For every missed call or disappointing response, I'm there with an excuse. Oh, he's busy. Oh, he's just distracted. Oh, you shouldn't have bothered him. I'm willing to become the bad guy in my own eyes, just to cover up their mistakes. And I'm finally, finally sick of it.

I don't want to be the only one who tries. I don't want to carry on caring for someone who has lost interest - or worse, had none in the first place. I don't want to be the one you call only when you need something. 

(Sew your own damn buttons on.)

So for now, I'm crushless. Happy to admire strangers passing on the way to Uni and flirt a little in clubs, sure. But I don't have the energy to invest so much feeling in an idol right now.

So, Tall, Skinny, Blond boys of Nottingham, here's your challenge: make me believe you care. Until then, I'll be waiting patiently. I have Gossip Girl and Grey's Anatomy to keep me entertained.

Love, Demi xo

Letter #2 : The Last Person You Kissed

A/N: I realise that this letter is A) breaking the order and B) also a  week late, but I thought I'd write this one before anything changed. Pretty sure it'll be funnier this way ;)

~*~

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~*~

My dear Pineapple,

What can I say? That you threw me off-guard? That I'd never in my wildest dreams anticipated that you'd ever go for me? That you were my first?

All that and more.

You're not my usual pick when I'm out, I'll be honest. I normally favour tall, blonde and skinny, and while you definitely have skinny sorted, your short stature and longer brown hair slipped unnoticed on my radar. But not for long.

Things had been quietly building for a while. Amourous nicknames. An attack from a certain genital-shaped egg-frier. Housemates wondering where all the noise is coming from, only to walk in and find us in bed (GASP) together. I should have seen it coming. But at the same time, I never thought you'd bridge that last gap. I guess that Dutch courage actually worked.

I didn't have a say in the matter, I'd like to point out. The music was thumping, Ocean was packed, and we were dancing small holes into the (disgusting) carpet. Out of nowhere, your hand snakes into vision and cups my chin (rather painfully so, might I add), until I'm facing you. Only that doesn't really register because you're kissing me.

And then it's over.

You revealed later that I was your first as well. I guess that's some small mercy. Good to know I wasn't the only one to lose my girl-kiss virginity.

Love, your Strawberry Cheesecake

Letter #1: To Your Best Friend

30 LETTERS PROMPTS:
- Your Best Friend;
- Your Crush;
- Your Parents;
- Your Sibling (or closest relative);
- Your Dreams;
- A Stranger;
- Your Ex-boyfriend/girlfriend/love/crush,
- Your Favorite Internet Friend;
- Someone You Wish You Could Meet;
- Someone You Don't Talk to as Much as You'd Like to;
- A Deceased Person You Wish You Could Talk To;
- The Person You Hate the Most/Caused You a Lot of Pain;
- Someone You Wish Could Forgive You;
- The Person You Miss the Most;
- Someone You've Drifted Away From;
- Someone That's Not in Your State/Country;
- Someone From Your Childhood;
- The Person That You Wish You Could Be;
- Someone That Pesters Your Mind - Good or Bad;
- The One That Broke Your Heart the Hardest;
- Someone You Judged by Their First Impression;
- Someone You Want to Give a Second Chance to;
- The Last Person You Kissed;
- The Person That Gave You Your Favorite Memory;
- The Person You Know That is Going Through the Worst of Times;
- The Last Person You Made a Pinky Promise to;
- The Friendliest Person You Knew For a Day;
- Someone That Changed Your Life;
- The Person That You Want to Tell Everything to, But Too Afraid to;
- Your Reflection in the Mirror.

~~*~~

Dear Elf,

When I think of you, the first thing that springs to mind is not your face (as lovely as it is). It's an N64. Your royal blue, Pikachu-emblazoned N64 to be precise.

(I guess it's a sign that we never really grew up, huh?)

The ironic thing is that we have grown up - an awful lot. Life may have been a hell of a lot easier when we were eight, but I would never choose to throw away these last eleven years to go back to that. Like two trees, planted too close together, we've grown; intertwining branches until inextricable. Until it feels like I'm missing a piece of me when we're separated too long; a gaping hole of laughter and singing and you trying to reason your way out of a situation with "Welllll, yeahhh, but..."

It always makes me giggle a little bit when you pronounce 'well' like 'wool' by the way. Internally of course.

We have strategic formulas, our own personal brand of maths. Me + You + (2 x cuppa tea) = -2hrs + 50% sarcasm + wisdom. Or (2 x competative girls) + some form of Nintendo console = -6hrs + volume > parents would like. And so on.

(That little bit of maths almost killed my poor brain by the way. I'll let you stick to the sciences, even if it is only the social ones).

You were always the more mature one in some ways. While I was still being mistaken for my younger sister and diligently doing my homework, you were at T's mad house parties, calling me up with laments of your latest exploits. You were always trying new things, always the first to do anything, so I always looked to you for guidance. The older one, the mature one. How ironic that I should be the one that you, even now, seek advice from, despite my naivity. When we were younger I always believed we were practically identical. Soul sisters. Now older and (hopefully) wiser, I can see I was actually quite wrong - but not necessarily in a bad way.

You like all the alcohols I hate. You're studying Psychology, juggling stats and biology, while I bury my head in more books with English. You jump into situations head first, while I dither and dip my toe in, one inch at a time.

But we still work. The sums still add up.

You inspire me to be more daring, to be independent. And hopefully it's my voice whispering in your ear when faced with sticky situations. If not, it doesn't matter. There's always the phone.

You're the yin to my yang. I don't know how else to put it. Don't ever change.

Love, Blindman.

In which Demi stretches her hand.

It's amazing how theraputic adressing a blank screen can be. It's like the sane version of talking to yourself. I don't know who reads this (well, that's a lie. I live with some of them) or how much it impacts them, but writing can be like dumping all your bags at the front door after a long hard day.

What's also amazing is how this anonymity, this... complete freedom, that so many millions around the world enjoy, can be the place to unburden yourself. How ironic is that? Posting all of your secret thoughts, your dreams, your musings online, for the whole world to see... the perfect escape.

So I'm going to try and do just that.

Once a week I will be posting a letter here on my blog. A letter addressed to someone I may or may not know. Maybe something I'd like to get off my chest, without having to face the aftereffects. Maybe something I could never verbalise but always meant. Who knows. It's a writing exercise I'm adopting from the private Livejournal community plagiarismhaven I'm a member of. And hopefully it'll make me fall back in love with writing again. I'm rusty. And I miss my Parker pen. xo

In which Demi misses routine.

Last night I didn't manage to settle down and sleep until almost 5am. Light was seeping out from the crack under my curtains, and a quick peek out of them confirmed I'd unintentionally stayed up until dawn again. Wasting time on the internet. Reading. Playing with the cats.And it looks like I'm heading the same way agan tonight.

Ishouldbesleeping. Ishouldbesleeping. Ishouldbesleeping.

Jobless and stranded a good 5 minute drive from my closest (geographically) friend, and about 20 minute drive from town and nightlife, I am finding myself slipping into an almost half existance. Morning consists of the endless hours before sleep - since when I wake up it tends to be closer to lunchtime than breakfast. I'm exercising, driving, doing the weekly shop; anything I can seize to keep me occupied. I miss the ease of living with 150 other teens. I miss having a bus stop practically outside the front door, with a cheap bus into town every 6 minutes or so.

I miss spontanaity, the basis of my university routine.

How ironic. xo.

 [What do you do when you're bored, it's the middle of the night and you have a spare mattress...?]

In which Demi muses about 'teams'.

And I'm not talking about the sports variety.

Team Edward .vs. Team Jacob. Team Jolie .vs. Team Aniston. Team Me .vs. Team Her.

[ This made me giggle. Source. ]

It's hard not to compare yourself to others, whether it be physically, academically - even in terms of meaningless material items. I thought I'd finally cracked it though; there's no point comparing yourself to others, there are only variations of self. If I say I'm not happy with my weight or figure, then I mean it in comparison to how I was at another time, not Keira Knightly for God's sake. Not once in my life, even as a scrawny pre-teen, can I say I boasted her figure. I have hips for starters, and I'm about 6 inches shorter. That's life.

Even at university, I'd finally come around to understand that there's only your own achivements to compare yourself to. It's not high school; there aren't top sets and bottom sets, there isn't a Gifted and Talented group or Prefects to proudly be part of. We're all some of the brightest minds in the country, and for once I am not the best at what I do. English is a particularly subjective subject - I might be lucky, for all I know. Maybe if my Lit exam had been marked by someone else they would have seen straight through my expansive vocabulary and complex sentences and realised I hated the bloody book and taken a dislike to the essay.

It's funny how things can shift. One day, one hour, one minute, one action... that's all it takes. Suddenly things tip over from being perfectly fine to slowly disintigrating. I try not to regret anything I do. I realise that I am only one small player within the much bigger game, and at the end of the day there's only so much I can do. Do your best, what seems right at the time. I guess I can't begrudge others for doing the same.

At the same time... I still wish things had happened differently. I guess my Team just couldn't compete. 3 strikes and I was out.

Until the next game at least. xo.

Um, herro?

I'm back? Maybe. Who knows. I spend enough bloomin' time on my laptop that I'm sure some sparodic posts to this half-empty, echoing blogosphere will appear. A pretence of a life that I actually lead. Because let's face it, words are hardly something to rely on. It's nothing compared to being in my head and witnessing my actual life.

For an English undergrad, I probably shouldn't have as much trouble verbalising my thoughts as I sometimes do. That bubble of thought, of emotion; caught in your throat, dying to escape, that ends up choking you. Pop, disappear - it'll be back again later for another attempt.

I've been told that my writing style actually mimics my real speech. O was the first to mention it: 'When you text, I can hear your voice echoing in my head. I can even guess your exact tone and stresses. It's really funny.' And it's no bad thing, surely, to be so recognisable even through letters on a screen. Surely the whole point of the written word is to express what's in your head, what you would like to verbalise, in written form.

My teachers and now professors have always praised my writing style. It's not something I've ever purposely cultivated or shaped. It's simply how my brain works. When I'm thinking about Literature, I think abstractly; my sentences become bordering-on-absurdly-long, polysyllabic words crowd the page and I routinely add adjectives everywhere. And I do mean everywhere. When I'm writing my journal or texts however, I'm rather blunt. One of the best methods of human-to-human communication, I believe, is to try and speak your mind in as simple a way as possible. Digging for meaning in your crush's IM's and texts, or trying to decipher the tone of an upset friend's "I'm fine" to determine just how NOT fine they are is TOUGH.

Look at me, talking about language like I'm an expert. I don't even know what this post is about. All I know is that human communication and language will never cease to intrigue me.

Time to unpack I guess. Hello Easter Holidays. xo

In which Demi sells her soul (and precious time)

Okay, bad blogging AGAIN, bad Demi! So much has happened since my last post, this'll be a rambling list of an update.

1. I TURNED 18 FINALLY!! Yes indeeeeeed, it took long enough to roll around, but it's here at last. Only problem is all my friends have been so busy, whether it's working, being on holiday or seeing their Other Halves that I'm yet to buy my first legal drink! My poor drivers license is sat sullenly in my wallet.

I got a bunch of stuff, but my favourite thing is my new bracelet. Thank you, Mum and Dad!!

It's by a woman called Alexis Dove so if you fancy a nice piece of jewellery, check her out!

2. I've taken on a second job, hence the title of this post. I'm now working in a call centre 9.30-4, Mon-Fri, on top of my waitressing job over the weekend. On the one hand I'm really regretting getting the job. I mean seriously, it's SUMMER. The last summer I'll be spending with my high school friends to be precise. With these two jobs I will effectively have no life. But then I think of the fact that in just 6 weeks I will have earnt over a thousand pounds, and it seems worth it. I'd be so proud of myself if I could earn that much, not to mention how much it would help my parents, who have myself AND my brother to send to Uni this year.

3. Shopping galooooore, with my birthday money! I ordered some silver jewellery under strict instructions from my aunt to splurge and buy myself something special with her money. I have WAYYY too much jewellery as it is, but I couldn't resist. More on that when they get shipped. Next there was my shopping trip the other day with my friends, which resulted in a gorgeous Grecian-style dress for my birthday party and this slightly awesome, kooky sheer lace top. Pictures of them soon.

4. My annual (or bi-annual at this stage, score!) check-up this week. I know this kinda seems out of the blue, as I haven't mentioned it before on here. I'm not even sure how many people actually read this... Anyway, I suppose I should explain; I have regular check-ups at the doctors because when I was a baby I had cancer.
There wasn't much to report, but I'm due some blood tests and kidney tests, as it's been 5yrs since my last ones. Also I've asked to have a fertility test, since there's a strong risk the chemo I had ruined any chance of me being able to have a baby. I'm 18 now, so I figure I'm old enough to know. But to be perfectly honest, if it IS bad news, I don't know if I'll be able to handle it.

ANYWAY to cheer me up, Mum treated me to this gorgeous shirt dress while we were shopping for dinner in Tesco after the hospital appointment.

Shirt dress: Tesco; Leggings: Matalan; Bag: Aldo; Bracelet: Alexis Dove

It's actually made of REAL flannel and is so snuggly I wore it out despite the fact it's the middle of summer :)

More soon when my stuff arrives! xo

In which Demi counts to 20

Twenty favourite things, taken from the open tag opportunity by Daisy Chain Dreams :)

1. Colour: Silver and blue (especcially aqua/turquoise shades), although I have a huuuge love of purple right now, as can be seen in my prom photos. Dress, watch and nails. I looked like an advertisement for the colour.

2. Dessert: My favourite meal. Doughnuts would be number one I think. I think. Although I adore cheesecake.

3. Smell: Miss Dior Cherie. So fresh and beautiful, I love it. Also strawberries, freshly cut grass and baking. Oooh, and new books.

4. Flower: Lily. It's my mum's favourite too, but ever since we've had the cats we haven't really been able to have them in the house, since it turns out cats are allergic to the pollen. Bummerrr.

5. Animal: I love giraffes, I think they're awsome. Also cats. And elephants. And dolphins. I love animals in general tbh.

6. Month: July. End of school, holidays and my birthday month. What more could you want?

7. Beverage: I used to have a bordering-on-unhealthy obsession with Diet Coke, but at the moment I am LOVING Fanta Lemon Zero. Soooo much more refreshing. And then tea, which I basically live off.

8. Shoes: My old leopard-print flats that I wore so much they literally disintergrated. And my brown and gold wedges.

9. Snacks: Skips crisps. I have been pretty much living off them and cups of tea since I went on Study Leave. Also, Pringles. When I'm feeling slightly more healthy (which isn't often) I love almonds and fresh pineapple.

10. Songs: 'Untouched' by the Veronicas is my current obsession, although 'Breakdown' by Plain White Tee's, 'Another Heart Calls' by All American Rejects and 'Disturbia' by Rihanna are all up there too.

11. Book: I read this amazing novel called 'Queen of Glass' on Fictionpress.com that was fantastic, but since she's taken it down to persue publication I guess I'd have to say the His Dark Materials trilogy by Philip Pullman which had a HUGE impact on me and they way I look at the world.

12. Fruit: Fresh, cold pineapple. With honeydew melon as a close second.

13. Hairstyle: Anything that keeps it out of my face. I loved my hair for prom, but it took over an hour to do, so it's hardly something I can replicate every day.

14. Pieces of Clothing: My leavers' hoody (snuggles), my silver and black party dress.

15. Stores to Shop: Ooooft. Any. Extra points if they're cheap :)

17. Hobbies: Reading, writing, Wii, horse-riding, skiing, mooching :)

18. Things to Collect: Useless crap. Case in point, I'm currently eyeing a little Hello Kitty figurine A brought me back from Taiwan a couple of years ago. I have no idea why I still have it. I do keep mementos like film tickets, gig tickets etc and I've built up a scrapbook for my 2yrs in Sixth Form, which is now overflowing. I attach too much sentimental value to absolutely useless things.

19. Movies: I adore Little Miss Sunshine. Love it. Also Lord of the Rings (2nd one especcially).

20. Restaurant: Chinese restaurants. I love them. Also anywhere that serves pizza. Or burgers. I'm easily pleased.

I tag the fabulous Rowan from Row-Rowing my Boat who is a fellow Wales musketeer ! Also anyone else who reads this. Go mad.

xo

In which Demi misses the pen and paper

I think I've figured out why I'm such a lazy blogger. Aside from the fact that I am... well, lazy. And why I find it so much more difficult to write - whether it's a story, an essay or a boring blog post - when staring at this little bright box perched on my lap.

I miss writing. Real writing. Using a pen and paper. Smudged ink, mis-spellings and odd grammar in haste that don't get underlined in a squiggly red line for being a freakin' fragment, crossing out, re-reading, filling up notebooks.

Why do we think that typing into a little box with neat, printed, perfect font can replicate that?

I'm filled with the urge to drive to Paperchase or WHSmiths and stock up on notebooks. Ring-bound, preferrably (I have a tendency of ripping what I've written out at a later date, or in the light of day, when I realise it was actually pretty crap) although my fingers are itching for a leatherbound, traditional notebook. A moleskin, or whatever they're called.

I need to get back into it before I hit Uni in September, or I'll never get my spark and love for writing and reading back.

I hate how it feels like a job. A chore. Something I have to do. Why the hell do I feel like I have to read Jane Eyre otherwise I'll be a failure as an English student? Why the hell should I feel obligated to love the classics when they actually bore me crazy?? Why can't I just get back to reading a book simply because I like the sound of it? Hell, when was the last time I read something simple. Harry Potter, of all things, has become so crazily appealing since I finished school.

I blame the film I watched tonight. Girl, Interrupted. Maybe we are all crazy. Who knows.

xo

In which Demi is no longer Cinderella

So last night didn't go *quite* to plan. For starters, S changed her mind about staying at mine and ended up getting a lift home with her mum and bf at the end of the night. She was also kinda late getting to mine, which then had a knock-on effect with our planned drinks&photos at KT's. We only had like 5mins and didn't have time for a drink, but managed to get some photos.

THEN when we rocked up to the Pavillions on time, the rest of our group took between half an hour and an hour to show up! The cheek of it.

So we sat down for dinner (typical mass catering standard) and pretty much died of dehydration as we were only given 2 bottles of still water between 12, and the drinks waitress never returned with more despite our attempts to order some.

Then there was the inevitable 'professional' photographer and dancing.

[Excuse the photo, it's off the website]

There was a general Michael Jackson overkill, but that was to be expected I suppose. 10 of his songs in a row was a bit much though, as good as they are.

THEN we headed into Harrogate, only to have trouble in Rev's when A's bf was refused entry because he accidently dropped his bus pass when he got out his ID, which obviously had a different name and photo on them to the passport he was trying to use. Smooth. So we spent some time trying to convince them to give us the passport back, and in the end he had to call his parents and be picked up, which left A in a bad mood as would be expected.

Since Rev's was pretty much deserted [tbh, I have no idea why we went there in the first place, when the offical after-party that EVERYONE would be at was at Moko's and Rev's is ridiculously overpriced] we headed to Moko's, where I FINALLY got some alcohol down me. By this point it was almost gone 12 and I was thirsty as well as wanting to get some alcohol in the system.

Moko's was fun, as usual, although I really wouldn't recommend wearing a ball dress there again, it was crazy hot. Lots of laughter, lots of dancing and lots of photos, before we decided to call it a night, to get home for about 3.

I wish I was more of a night person. By 2 I'm pretty much dead, it's pretty annoying. Practice makes perfect I guess! xo